bakerstreet | They may bear their teeth to all the world, but never to you

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They may bear their teeth to all the world, but never to you

S T R A Y
shipping meme

Taking in strays is, all in all, an understandable vice. The dips in between their ribs, those large and forlorn eyes, they can help you forget the claws and the teeth and the danger lurking beneath fur. But the habit's a knife edge; your efforts may not be rewarded with kindness (animal instincts aren't discretionary) and you may get bit despite what you've overlooked. A stray doesn't care about pity. All it can know is survival.

These warnings apply to strays of the more human(oid) sort, too.

But what may even more perilous with this type than any drawn blood is what you can get when they grow to trust you. You can earn their undying loyalty...or their love. Either from such a wild thing is a precarious path to go down, if you allow yourself to do it.

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ғɪɴᴅɪɴɢ — Who's that? They're no ordinary passersby! Were they in an accident? Are they foreign? ...should you approach them?

ʀᴀɪɴ, ʀᴀɪɴ, ɢᴏ ᴀᴡᴀʏ — The elements make this night no time to sleep out of doors.

ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ — Cuts, broken bones, injuries all of sorts...you have to stitch them back up, then make sure they don't get any

ɢᴏᴏᴅ ɢᴜᴇsᴛ — It's all you can do to show gratitude to the person who took you in. Fix them a meal, care for their house, whatever you can do once you're able.

ʙᴀᴅ ɢᴜᴇsᴛ — FUCK THIS PERSON AND FUCK THEIR COUCH. You didn't ask to be brought here. Let them clean up after you, you don't even care.

ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ? — How you got into this situation is a mystery. Even more of a mystery is your identity, and why the person you were would be so displaced.

sᴇʟғʟᴇssɴᴇss —

ʟᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ — If you've been injured badly enough or can't remember all too well, you might have to relearn a good deal. Luckily, you have a helping hand.

sᴄᴀʀs — Scars from the encounter that lead you here or scars from prior, you don't want them to see either. You still have your secrets to keep.

sᴛᴜʙʙᴏʀɴ — Ugh, your house guest is so stubborn! They always get up when they should be resting, have the worst habits, and completely disrespect your home! You'll get to them, one way or another. Or you'll throw them out. You don't want to, but you will.

ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ — Bad memories or nightmares wreck you; your host and nurse comes to your side unexpectedly.

ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄʟᴀsʜ — The person who's taken you in is from a different culture or lifestyle than you, and adapting is harder than you thought.

ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ — Think learning about a new culture is hard? Try being a different species. Can you keep your little eccentricities at bay for the good of your station?

ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ — Now that your emotions towards your caretaker/host/jailer are softening, you're finding yourself unusually jealous of those in their life who were close to them before.

ɴᴇᴡ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴠɪᴛɪᴇs — You never thought you'd have fun after all that's happened, yet such simple gestures as a picnic or a movie make all the difference.

ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ — You love them, this person who's taken you in or this person you've found. It's not a pity or a thankfulness, it's love, and you know that now. What you choose to do with this information is

ʜɪsᴛᴏʀʏ — Suddenly, the person who's been so nice to you finds out that the two of you have a history. You killed their loved ones or caused something terrible. How can they forgive you?

ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ — So much has been done for you. The least you can do in return for the one who helped you at your lowest is make sure they never have such a low point.

ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ᴋɴᴏᴄᴋɪɴɢ — Anyone in the way of getting to you will be destroyed, and that includes the person you're staying with.

ʟɪᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍ — You've been given a home, maybe which you've never had before. You don't want to leave.

ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ — Not only are you living with them, but you're starting a proper life with them.

ʀᴇᴠᴇᴀʟ — All secrets are laid out on the table. You've decided to tell about your past and what lead you here.

ʀᴇᴠᴜʟsɪᴏɴ — What you've done and who you are is so heinous, they want nothing more to do. You're to leave their home and leave them alone.

ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ — It doesn't matter what they've done. You've opened your home and your heart to them, and nothing's changed.

ᴘᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ — All things must come to an end. No matter what you feel for each other, it's time to leave. Hopefully, you'll see each other again.

ʜᴀᴘᴘɪʟʏ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ — Come what may, you've decided to stay at your new home with the person you love. Now, it's safe enough to do so.

ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ

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[Warning takes all the fun out of it, Aizawa!

He is suddenly standing up with newfound zeal, punching the air.]

Alright, then! Or -- All Might then!!

I'll make us a real dinner...! [He's already wandering off toward the kitchen -- maybe because the faster he can get his thoughts away from Aizawa leaving the apartment (why is this a troubling thought) and on being a chef, huh?? Aizawa may find, surprisingly enough, that despite Toshinori's constant small and fast meals, he can actually be quite the chef; the place fills with nice homely smells within the hour.

Like, a big real meal, too. He's not cutting corners.

He won't be able to indulge like Aizawa will be able to, but who cares?

It's a special occasion.]

[It should be noted, for the record, that the "All Might then!!" gets a very flat looking expression. He's not going to say anything about it or argue. He's just going to contribute a Look. Ah, this is the person he likes. He signed up for this. He's deliberated and spent a good deal of mental and emotional effort trying to figure out how to tell this idiot. For this. Amazing.]

[That moment of flat, dull, judgement is just that, though, a moment. For a while he stays on the couch, still taking in details of some show he realizes he really doesn't care about without someone to watch with him. And at some point, as the good smell begins to waft through the area, he's back to his usual hovering. He doesn't hover in the kitchen, that would just make him a nuisance. Instead he's just at the corner of awareness, like he tended to do while in the apartment. It's just less of a gloomy cloud of a presence and a bit more comfortable.]

[He might even look a bit fond.]

You look like one of those parents that make elaborate lunch boxes. [It's teasing but then meaning's there. He looks surprisingly natural in the kitchen for a seven-foot-tall skeleton man. If Aizawa had those kinds of memories of home, it'd definitely remind him. As it stands, he's got not point of reference, but right now he can easily imagine Toshinori cutting up apples to resemble rabbits or something equally cute, pointless, and sentimental.]

[He glances over once Aizawa has stopped hovering in the periphery and has decided to join him in the land of the less socially ungraceful. Toshinori's a tall and tree-like presence wherever he ends up, and it's no different in the small kitchen. But now this tree is donning a little apron that is clearly an All Might themed one you'd find in a hero otaku shop. What? It's not nerdy if it's his own uniform. That's a fact, right?

He's finishing some odd mixture of western and eastern food, fish and rice and a sort of stew.

He clarifies, because it's very important:]

I do make elaborate boxed lunches.

[And ties them neatly with different patterned handkerchiefs. He kind of regrets not doing something like that for Aizawa, actually; some bento boxes. That'd be nice, right? Maybe he'll do that now that he's leaving.... Never too late to be a good friend.]

I'll have to make you one! For tomorrow.

I'm going to have a... lot of leftovers, I think.

[THERE IS SO MUCH. FOR TWO PEOPLE. ONE LACKING A STOMACH.

TOO MUCH.]

[It's still entirely nerdy. Tacky. Silly. Isn't any apron an All Might apron so long as he wears it?]

[... And isn't this way too much food? Aizawa's not going to turn down free food but the amount does start to dawn on him as ridiculous. Even with a boxed lunch of leftovers, he was probably going to have to insist on taking some home with him. Otherwise it was going to sit sadly, unable to be diminished by tiny portions, until it went bad.]

[Still, as someone who's spent a solid decade making and eating single-person meals, he's flummoxed by it... but doesn't hate it.]

If it's just leftovers, that's fine with me. Don't waste time with elaborate or anything, I'm not your child. [The translation being: Yes, please. Along with a pointed note. Since he had mentioned parents, now he was being offered one, and- well, some part of him feels the need to pointedly insist there's no familial feelings here.]

[It'd be easier if any time he'd asked about the other's age hadn't been met with pointed, canned laughter. Not that an answer was going to change how he felt at this point.]

I would never dream of infantilizing your lunch, Aizawa-kun.

[... He's gonna do it isn't he. He's gonna make them all cute, just to be a sassy asshole.

But more to the point! Time and effort produce food! How startling. He's a little unsure about seasoning because he doesn't know Aizawa that well just yet to know what he likes but--!! Oh, just get it over with, All Might, you were a mighty hero once; you can might your way through setting the table. He's carefully putting out all kinds of dishes and little soup bowls, rubbing the back of his head after a moment with a little sheepish grin, mumbling to himself--]

Aaa... I haven't used these dishes in a long time...

[WHAT THE HELL, CHEF GORDON ALMIGHT.]

Edited 2017-11-14 05:11 (UTC)

[Despite literally seeing it all come together, he still has no idea how it all came together like that. It was like a restaurant. It was better than a restaurant because he didn't have to, say, go outside, or talk to a hostess. Honestly, he feels like he should have helped with moving around dishes and such but- well, he'd compromise and insist on helping with the clean up. Even if it was a celebration for him, he was still a guest in this home for one last night.]

It's nice they get to be used again.

[... Then, after a pause, like it's still so against his nature to just let an innocuous statement go without some small barb,]

But was that really a reason to fill all of them? [There were enough portions here- theoretically, Toshinori could make lunch boxes for several staff members. Not that Aizawa wants that, of course. He wants one for himself and himself alone. Even if that makes it an anomaly he has to explain.]

Absolutely! It's an important occasion, isn't it?

Celebration for your living space finally being livable again!

[He wags some chopsticks at him, as if to maestro his reply. Honestly, he's more than happy to spend money on more food, because he's gonna have to shop tomorrow; he makes a pretty decent salary as a hero, obviously -- in fact, perhaps he has more money than he knows what to do with -- but he's always been, in reality, a fairly straight-forward and simple person. It's why this apartment is so sparse. Warm and well-kept, but nothing is particularly lavish for the Number One Hero.

He offers Aizawa some chopsticks as well as he moves to sit.]

Sometimes you really should just take it in and enjoy the moment, you know.

Itadakimasu, as we say!

[Suddenly, Aizawa feels relieved he didn't give the other more warning. It might have gotten even more excessive with time to plan. There might have been decorations. At least there wasn't anything as ridiculous themed around his hero identity, unlike the readily available All Might streamers, All Might noisemakers, or those stupid party hats that mimicked his signature antennae-hair. Something like that and he'd seriously consider locking away his feelings and never confessing ever.]

[... Maybe he's overthinking it. It's just an excuse to celebrate. He'll settle down at the table, chopsticks in hand. He can't help but add,]

I get it, you're just that excited to see me go. [with that kind of toothy smirk he has when he's either intending to hurt feelings or just messing around. Who can really tell, some days.]

Itadakimasu. [Then it's time to eat. When left to his own devices, Aizawa made small, single-serving kind of meals. That didn't mean he wasn't capable of eating a lot when the opportunity presented itself, though. Plus Ultra.]

Hey! You know that's not what I meant.

[He's indignant, but only mildly so; he's well-aware of what a little shit Shouta Aizawa can be. The letters being discovered and the conversation that followed hadn't been their first little disagreement. Funnily, he doesn't find it nearly so nail-biting when Aizawa is polar opposite of him now; he knows that the man... doesn't hate him. Is here not just because he tolerates him. He hadn't wanted to make the aura sappy by proclaiming how happy he is to have a steady friend in his life again -- but he sure finds himself happy to be sitting here with him, eating and enjoying the other's company.

Maybe it had been lonelier in this apartment than he remembers.

Or maybe the reason he can't remember being lonely here is because he had avoided being alone too much in this place... A hero who always smiles can't develop anymore reasons to frown, can he? He can't help but beam a little bit as he eats, too.

... He doesn't eat much, but he enjoys letting Aizawa work on the fruits of his labor.

That's fine enough by him.

By the time he's moving to clean up, he can't help but speak what's lingering on his mind.]

... Um. You're always welcome to come here any time, by the way.

It's not a particularly eventful place, but I don't mind... visitors...

[There's a small, muffled laugh at the response, like it's just the appropriate response in a comedy duo. Of course he knew and of course he had to make the comment to start with. That was comfortable in its own way, a slightly less guarded form of himself than most people saw at school or work.]

[He makes an impressive dent in the mountain of food that was prepared. There will still be a lot of leftovers, but he did what he could. And then, wait,]

Hey. [entirely ignoring what he's saying for a moment, he reaches out to grab Toshinori's wrist.] Go sit down, I'll clean up here.

[... and trying to stick to his mental plan on that means he almost missed what was a glimpse of loneliness. An invitation. A cynical part of him wonders how long that invitation would stay open if he made his feelings known. His mind can easily imagine an awkward rescinding, because while he's happy sitting and talking like friends, it's still not enough. And that was selfish of him.]

... you can clean up after me when I visit. [he corrects, a bit more softly]

[He glances back, then down to the hand encircling his knobby wrist.

It takes a moment for him to actually realize Aizawa's planning to come back sometime.

And it makes him smile a little.]

I guess I'll go finish up that marathon, huh? If you're really okay with it.

[He would usually fight on helping, but. Maybe for once, All Might can try not butting in.]

[If Toshinori were in his hero form, that hand wouldn't so easily make it around the wrist. That didn't really matter, though. They hadn't gotten close enough, during that period of their life, for him to ever do such a pointed little gesture. It was something unique to where they were here and now.]

[He lets go, taking in that smile for a selfish moment before glancing down to the table.]

I am. I wouldn't say it if I wasn't. [And he pushes his chair back, ready to take over and usher Toshinori over to the couch himself if he has to.]

[From there, it's hair tie time, pulling that mess of hair out of the way for clean-up mode. Clean-up goes remarkably smoothly, as if Aizawa needs to remind the general world around him that he's a grown-ass man that is capable of living by himself instead of just crashing with whatever cheery blond he can get (thanks for college, Mic). Occasionally he'll comment on something he hears on the screen, anything too egregiously optimistic. He's about as thorough as he is going through Toshinori's room, even though it falls so opposite his appearance.]

[Then, once he's finished, he'll unceremoniously flop back down on the couch with the faint smell of dish soap lingering on him.]

[Oh, that's a good look for you, Aizawa-kun.

He stares a little bit, but only just a little bit! It's always interesting when he's not a mess of wild black hair, you know. He likes the half-ponytail a lot, too, but he's far too self-aware about it; it's just, it reminds him of his sensei. It makes him a bit wistful. Silly, he knows. It's easy to banter, to be the positive voice that sort of storms with Aizawa's more down-to-earth pessimism.

When Aizawa sits down, Toshinori nearly leans into him, without thinking.

He bumps his shoulder.]

Ah, sorry. Am I already about to doze off? It must've been all that food.

[He rubs the back of his head and pats his stomach with the other, reddening a little.

Way to go, Toshi.]

How about you? We should -- probably get some shut-eye!

[It's a shame, how assuming it would never work has kept Aizawa from trying to most basic girls' magazine tricks in the book: change your hair and see how quickly he notices. To him, it's just a way of keeping his hair from being even more of a mess, nothing more or less. Still, he keeps it that way when settling back down.]

[There's no negative reaction to the bump. Just sort of an expectant look, as if even that weren't too unusual to him anymore.]

Hm. I guess I shouldn't keep you up too late. [Is he tired? Of course he is. Will he sleep? Debatable. As far as he knows, this is the last night he'll allow himself to be here so naturally. Maybe he should rummage through the other's things once more. For old times' sake. Maybe he should re-read the letter he'd penned one more time, find something wrong with it, then re-write the whole thing. He was a busy person, after all.]

... you're not feeling unwell, are you? [There's that faint flush of red, which he'd normally ignore, but certain events of the past month have made him more cautious. There's another casual invasion of space, to hold the back of his hand against the other's cheekbone to check the warmth.]

[Ah--? He looks surprised again before politely swatting Aizawa's hand with all the grace of a young boy trying to tell his mom he's really just fine, thank you. He's not about to admit that Aizawa's a pleasantly sturdy and soft person to lean into.] I'm fine, really. Maybe a little tired; what a surprise, that a school full of teenagers could tire someone out!

[What a solid joke, good job.

He stands up, kneading the sharp juts of his lower spine with a groan.]

Try to actually get some sleep tonight?

[He doesn't expect anything of the sort, but it's habit to say something about it, so.]

[It's a little irritating that all he can do is trust Toshinori regarding that sort of thing. Well, if he was aware enough to not fall asleep on him, he probably wasn't too worn out. Since, clearly, any time there was too much affection it either led to or came from pneumonia.]

Ah, well, I'm pretty close to getting to sleep in my own bed. [He glances back to the television.] I might hold out a while longer.

[... Not that he's expecting too much sleep tomorrow, either. What was on the agenda? Could he nap during a period tomorrow... There's clear careful thought being put into this, alright.]

Mm. Good night, Yagi-san.

[He glances back, giving a smile at the doorway, half masked in the dark of the hallway. He's gonna miss this sort of thing, actually. Ha... ha. He's not going to let his heart twist over something so silly; it's not like Aizawa is someone he has to cut loose or something. That'd be ridiculous to put him in such a place; he'd think he's crazy at such a thought, wouldn't he?

He wags a hand talking without really listening to himself.]

We could always switch! I could take the couch, you the bed.

I promise there's no bed bugs.

[Why was the universe conspiring to make this night so tempting? Don't just say yes, don't just say yes...]

Ah, what, and force you to either curl up or let your legs hang off? [A guy of Toshinori's height shouldn't be forced onto the couch. It was a comical mental image.]

I'm not that cruel. [He's absolutely that cruel. But it lacked some of the appeal, indulging like that when the real thing was around. If the real thing were around, then...]

[... there's a faint flush of pink to his cheeks.]

[Ah, it's like his mind can't even process getting that far. This is a losing battle. His shoulders hunch, like trying to bury himself in capture cloth that isn't there.]

I know how comfortable it is, anyways, don't offer that kind of thing unless you're serious. [... maybe he should have replaced that "don't just say yes" inner mantra with "don't say anything." That would have been the safest of all options. He's not supposed to be the type that blabbers and says too much.]

[Toshinori laughs lightly, pointing towards him.]

Are you sure you're not the one feeling well?

[Why so shy about it, buddy?]

And I'm serious! Why? Because you've slept on the couch plenty here. And believe it or not, I can handle a couch; if I can handle the Toxic Chainsaw, I can handle sleeping across a couch.

[He puts his hands on his hips and smiles, a sort of bright remnant of All Might, not quite so wide and blinding but confident and optimistic.]

[Of course he's not feeling well, he's infected by the most debilitating disease of all: infatuation. It was insidious, painful, and as far as he'd researched there wasn't a simple cure. How irritating.]

Why are you so attached to the idea, now? [he's grumbling, mentally pouring over more reasons to say no. Maybe if he had just said nothing, the whole thing would have gone by, just an idle comment. Serves him right for digging his heels in.]

I'm not going to force you onto the couch in your own home. [Never mind that "force" wasn't involved, he was practically having to force Toshinori to stay in it.] I'm used to sleeping in various places, so it's not worth trading if you end up sore, even for a night. [Ah, before this he was much better at just saying "no" and leaving it at that. Why did he find a need to justify it so many times? Just because it was the last night?] And I'm not ready for Recovery Girl's glare if she finds out I let you do that. [A perfectly rational list of reasons!]

If you insist on making me sleep in a bed, we'd be sharing. [There it is, the gay chicken ultimatum.]

[This is a Predicament.

He stares for a moment, considering his options. Well! He feels a little self-conscious about the thought of sharing a bed -- he's sickly, anyway, and he'd probably cough and roll and make sleep pretty unsettled for Aizawa. And he's so gangly, he'd probably kick him or take the covers or something. And what if he sleeptalks? He can be a little active in his head, when he's out cold. What if he says something entirely embarrassing?

....................

But he doesn't want Aizawa to feel like... he's icky or something.

He trusts the man, and it's not like he'd be lying around with a stranger.

He's shared beds in high school, nothing weird about it.

... Yeah.]

Alright then! If that doesn't bother you!

[Is it gay chicken if Toshinori doesn't remotely think of gay chicken?]

[In his eyes, it's the perfect defense. He wouldn't just let another person so easily into his bed, right? There had to be some sacred barrier there, unlike just the home, where he'd managed to invade. Even if they were friends, that would clearly be an element of "too much." From him, it'd be too direct of a suggestion and Toshinori would refuse and-]

[Ah.]

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